


Peace

by Hierophantastic



Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: One-Shots, a bit Arslan/Etoile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 18:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17350079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hierophantastic/pseuds/Hierophantastic
Summary: A few one-shots about Arslan





	1. Life

**Author's Note:**

> I can't read Japanese and I'm really bummed that the books aren't translated to English nor does there seem to be any complete summaries of them so I just wrote my own version of how the anime ends. This is my first work, hope you like it.

A faraway scream pierced through the sounds of marching men and horses’ hooves. Arslan lifted his head, his hand already dropping to his sword when he realised it wasn’t a scream of panic. It was a seemingly unending wail, the unmistakable sound of life. He laughed as he heard Narsus and Daryun bickering and watched Azrael who soared through the sky. New life in an army. Hope in the darkness. 

That night, when the army had set up camp and Arslan went to look how the Lusitanians were doing, he wasn’t surprised to see a new member had joined their group. He had known one of the refugees, Allanne, had been pregnant and now she was holding a baby in her arms. Alfreed and Farangis sat beside her, presumably giving her advice.  
They grew silent as Arslan approached, greeting them with his usual smile

“Etoile isn’t here. She is fetching more water,” Allanne said to the prince when she noticed him.

“Ah, I see. But while I do enjoy her company, I was actually wondering if the child was okay. You could hear him all the way at the front.” Allanne visibly paled at that. She was still nervous around the prince, a stark contrast to Etoile’s brusque behaviour.

“I apologize, Your Highness. Lady Farangis has assured me he is extremely healthy.”

Arslan chuckled at Allanne's nervous behaviour and waved a dismissive hand. “No need for apologies. I found it quite refreshing to hear that, amongst all this death and despair, there are still children born. What is his name?”  
Calmed by the words of the prince, although still a bit flustered Allanne shifted so Arslan could see the baby better. The child was sleeping, a wet thumb in his mouth while his tiny chest rose and fell. “I called him Luc, after his father.”

At the mention of the baby’s father, Arslan’s smile dropped a bit. The man in question wasn’t among the other Lusitanians and Arslan couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. “I am sure Luc will become a kind and good man. I hope he can forgive me someday.”

Allanne smiled a sad, but kind, smile.

“I’ve forgiven you and most of the other Lusitanians are grateful for your help and kindness. The soldiers knew what they were signing up for, Your Highness, and I’m fairly certain ours wouldn’t have been so good to the survivors. I will make sure Luc will not be raised to be so ignorant as to condemn all heathens.” And despite the woman's sad expression, Arslan laughed. Maybe there would be peace after all.


	2. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Etoile has returned to Arslan with distressing news. Arslan needs to think.

Arslan stood on the balcony, quietly looking out over the sea and the reflected stars.

Etoile was back. And although the news she had brought was distressing, he was happy. She had been a great influence on him, even if their meetings had mostly been short ones, with neither of them knowing who the other was. He wondered if she would stay this time, but doubted it. If he did manage to get the Lusitanians out of Pars this might very well   
be the last time he saw her.

The young prince had told her he needed some time to think about what she had said, but he was already fairly certain of what he was going to do. His thoughts were disturbed by a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he said, wondering who it could be.

To his surprise, Etoile opened the door. Arslan managed to stop himself from blushing as he saw her. She looked hesitant, shy. It felt weird seeing her that way, since every time they had met she had been a bonfire of pride and confidence. But then again, most people would doubt themselves if they were asking an opposing ruler to spare an invading king, he supposed.

“Etoile! I just have to say it again, it is good to see you, even if it is under such troubling circumstances. Did you need anything?”

“No, I just…” Etoile sighed “I just wanted to thank you. I am a soldier from an invading force asking you to save my king and, even if you don’t accept, at least you took the trouble to listen. Most people wouldn't do that.”

Arslan smiled. “Ah, but it is I who should be thanking you Etoile.”

Etoile looked at him as if he’d gone mad. The shock of hearing her plea must have had quite an effect on him, she thought.

“Every time we met, I learned something new. Everyone assumes it was Narsus who talked me into abolishing slavery, but that thought had been planted in my mind long before.” As Arslan looked up at the stars, memories flooding back, Etoile was fairly certain of what he was talking about.

“All men are equal,” she murmured.

Arslan smirked, “Yes, except heathens, who we can treat as we wish.”

Etoile’s face reddened, “Uhm, well, I didn’t know what I was talking about back then.” As she saw Arslan was going to say something about that, she continued, “I mean, of course you’re still a filthy heathen, but you’re a good filthy heathen.” Arslan’s eyes lit up a little at her comment, but he continued with his story.

“And then you gave me your book, opening my mind to the Lusitanian side of things. But perhaps the most important thing you did was that night at Peshawar.” He could see Etoile had lost him now trying to recall what she had said or done that was so important. Arslan decided to help her along.

“You know by now that Hilmes has a much better claim to the throne based on bloodline than I do. But what you might not know is the fact that there is a very large chance I am not Andragoras’ real son,” he heard Etoile gasp in realization, “I may not have a drop of kingly blood in my body. At Peshawar, I was almost considering to give the throne to Hilmes. But...”

“You don’t need to be a king to help your country,” she whispered.

“Exactly,” he turned away from the stars and look her in the eyes, “and those words stuck by me when the king arrived at Peshawar and still do. So thank you, Etoile, for making me who I am.” Arslan turned away fast when he felt the heat travel up his neck from those golden eyes of her.

And so they stood in silence for a while. Leaning on the balcony and staring at the stars so that neither would see the other's blush. A question broke the silence.

“Etoile?”

She turned to him, curiosity in her eyes.

“What?”

“Do you think there could be peace between our nations?” 

They were both thinking about that time in the dungeons, when Arslan had asked her the same question and she had laughed in his face. Part of her told her to lie, to say yes, of course, absolutely, just so he would help her.

“Maybe,” she answered instead. And she believed it.

And Arslan made a decision. He would march on Ecbatina, save Innocentus VII, face Andragoras and take the throne. For Pars, for peace.

For a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Liberation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arslan takes back Pars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I might have said, extremely cocky, "Hey, I'll make my own ending! With handwaving and plot dissolvement!" I'm sure they were going somewhere, but I don't know where. So this chapter might kinda suck.

He could hear the noise of the battle outside of the palace. Andragoras’ army had joined forces with Arslan’s now that their leader had fallen under Hilmes’ sword. Hilmes’ seemed to have fled after, taking an arrow for that woman that was with him. Arslan still didn't know who she was but he had no time to think about that now. Some of the Parsians that followed him had gone with him, others just stood around unsure of what to do.

That left the Lusitanians. Arslan had given orders to let anyone who surrendered live, but as he glanced at Etoile beside him he knew she still worried for her brothers-in-arms.

“We need to hurry, they’re dying out there”, Etoile said, giving voice to his thoughts. “The sooner we find His Majesty, the sooner we can clear this mess up.”

Yes. Narsus had caught prince Guiscard and some of his men trying to sneak away with the treasury before the battle, so he wouldn’t be a problem.

“You still remember where he is?”

“Of course! Now hurry up, Arslan, or do I need to carry you?”

They turned a corner and arrived at a tower. When Arslan opened the door, sword ready, he was greeted by the sight of a man who seemed to have the width of a hippo and the muscles of a worm. The fat man, who judging by the crown on his head was probably Innocentus VII, was pointing a dagger at Arslan.

“Who are you!? What do you want!?” he asked, voice trembling. Arslan sheathed his sword, much to the confusion of the Lusitanian king.

“I am prince Arslan of Pars. I’d like you to tell your men to surrender so we can avoid further bloodshed.”

The king frowned, about to retort, when Etoile intervened. “Your Majesty, I don’t know if you remember me but my name is Etoile. The soldier you asked to save you. Prince Arslan is trustworthy, he has captured your brother and wishes peace between Pars and Lusitania.” Etoile knelt before her king, bowing her head. “I apologize I didn’t find a way to save Your Majesty without us losing hold of the capital, but we are losing the battle here. If you tell the men to surrender, the prince will surely let them live and return to Lusitania.”

Innocentus thought for a moment, visibly doubtful of her words. “And how do you know the prince will keep his word?”

“I fought at Saint Emmanuel, your Excellency. When we lost that battle, the prince asked me to deliver a Lusitanian prayer for our fallen. He also gave the survivors everything they needed to travel to Ecbatina safely. He is a heathen, but a kind and honourable one.”

“Very well then. If you managed to convince a follower of the faith of your noble intentions they must be true.”

He turned around and wobbled to the balcony, dagger still in his hand. Arslan followed him.

“Men of Lusitania,” The king's voice echoed from the tower, “We have lost this battle, lay down your weapons so further death may be avoided.”

And the king dropped his dagger from the tower.

Arslan stepped forward.

“Soldiers of Pars, I am Crown Prince Arslan. I understand some of you may not have come here following me, but king Andragoras has been killed by Hilmes, who fled shortly thereafter. Let the surrendering Lusitanians live. There has been enough death in this war.”

A cheer rose from the city as the Lusitanians threw down their weapons. Arslan smiled. Pars was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading


	4. Coronation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arslan finally gets to sit down.

It felt weird to walk through the palace again after such a long time of travelling. Arslan wondered if coming home always felt like this, or if he just didn’t feel at home anymore, knowing now what he had not known back then. He still needed to talk with Innocentus about the terms for Lusitania’s withdrawal and possible alliance, but that had to wait.

There was a coronation he had to be at.

He entered the throne room through the main doors. To his left and right people stood in neat rows, facing him.

Narsus, without who Arslan would probably have never gained victory in so many battles.

Elam, his best and first friend, always ready to help and aware of anything troubling him.

Alfreed, the bandit whose tribe helped save Gilan from corruption.

Etoile was there as well, which surprised him. He had asked her to come but her grumbled answer hadn’t sounded like an agreement. He was happy she had, though. It just wouldn’t do to have a coronation without the woman who had shaped so many of his views.

Gieve stood more relaxed than the others, but his smile couldn’t hide his pride.

Farangis however, stood straight, and while her mouth was set in a neutral line, her eyes were happy.

Jaswant was even now on guard, ready for any danger.

There were more of course. Kishward and Azrael, Khubard, Zaravant, Esfan, Tus and Lucien.

And beside his throne stood Daryun.

The tradition was that a family member, usually the queen, or the highest ranking person would grant the prince the crown. But Tahaminay had disappeared and the eran, Vahriz, was dead. Arslan’s heart stung a bit at the memory, but he had mourned his teacher already.

So Daryun would grant him the throne, the marzban a marzban. And while Elam might be Arslan’s best friend, Daryun was more than that. He had been at Arslan’s side since before all this started. Daryun was like a brother.

“My prince.”

Daryun lifted up a silver crown. Arslan had asked for a new crown because he wasn’t of his father's blood and Hilmes had taken the old one in the chaos of the battle.

The prince knelt.

“My prince. You have faced many hardships, overcome many problems, and during that time I had the honour of aiding you and standing by your side. I was impressed by your compassion and wisdom, your kindness and your fairness and your determination to achieve your goals. These are all qualities worthy of a good leader. So I name you my King.”

The crown was heavy, but not as heavy as his helmet.

The king stood up.

Daryun knelt and behind his back, the new king could hear the others doing the same. He turned around and sat on the throne.

“And so we name you our King, King of Pars!”

As the words echoed through the large room, he noted with amusement that while Etoile didn’t say them, there was still a look of pride on her face as she silently mouthed the words.

He doubted he struck an opposing figure and he didn't, physically. However, anyone present at that moment would still have described him as strong. His white cloak with the golden hem shone in the sunlight falling through the window. The silver crown reflected the light, making the sapphire in the middle even more apparent. His body was small, but he sat straight with an aura of light and justice.

“Rise, friends.”

It was an unusual way for a king to address his subjects, but they were used to it by now. Arslan smiled as they stood up.

“I have indeed faced many hardships and overcome many problems. I wasn’t alone though. Every single one of you will be rewarded, be it with gold, titles, land, whatever you wish. However, before we do that, I have two orders for you.”

His companions were surprised, he could see it on their faces. A bit soon for orders.

“One, Narsus make sure everyone in Pars knows that I am king and from now on every slave that sets food in Parsian lands is a free man.”

Narsus bowed, a slight smile on his face. His King truly was a hasty one.

“And two, Elam, the people of this city have lived through several sieges, battles, hunger, poverty and thirst. We need to throw a feast.” Now they were surprised. Arslan continued. “Narsus, make sure the slaves know they are welcome too. Etoile, same goes for the Lusitanians. I needed to speak with the king anyway, I can do it during the feast. Run to the kitchens have them prepare as much food as possible, no matter what! Drag the tables on the streets and have the people do the same! The war is over, Pars is free,” Arslan suddenly stood up as if his body was filled with joy.

“I call for celebration!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arslan rides through Ecbatina and ends up on the city walls.

The people were happy. Arslan could see it. He had managed to make a deal with the Lusitanian king, who would leave Pars, return her treasures and when back in Lusitania would declare an end to the war against heathens, if Arslan would aid him in defeating the Temple Knights who were bound to make trouble.

Now the new king rode around the city, Elam and Daryun beside him. Where they came, the people cheered and called his name. There wasn’t enough food in the palace to feed an entire city, of course, so the citizens had dragged out their own tables and served their own food. The treats they had managed to save from the occupying forces, like old wines or sugar, all came out and when Arslan rode past they offered him some.

He’d accept and talk with them, listen to their hopes and problems and reassure them.

His aimless wandering took him to where the Lusitanian refugees and soldiers were eating, a large plaza with a fountain. Innocentus, his closest advisors, Etoile, and a few soldiers had been eating in front of the palace and were probably still there. So when he arrived and the first few spotted him they nudged each other and silence fell. Had their king been here they would have assumed Arslan was there to talk to him. After all, why would a Parsian king bother with them?

But then a refugee stood up. Arslan recognized her, it was Allanne. She raised a fist in the air.

“Hail, King Arslan the Peacemaker!” News travelled fast. It was quiet for a while, then the other refugees rose too, then a few soldiers and soon everyone.

Elam chuckled as Daryun stared shocked at the mass of people.

“Well, that is something you don’t see every day,” said Elam, “A people cheering for the king that defeated them and their invasion? Truly, my King, you are a ruler unlike any other.”

Arslan smiled. “These people were being neglected due to court intrigue and war while they starved in a foreign land. I am sure they’ll be happy to return home.”

Arslan turned to the crowd and waved his hand. The cheering died down.

“As you all have noticed, I am King Arslan of Pars. I have made an agreement with your King that I will lend you food and aid in your journey home. I hope that you will be able to forgive us for any losses and pain you may have suffered, like I forgive you. I also hope that in the future, the people of Lusitania may find it in their heart not to condemn those whose beliefs differ with yours. Peace needs to be kept by both sides."

The crowd cheered again and Arslan spurred his horse to continue through the city.

The next sight he saw was a little less joyous. While Arslan had invited the former slaves to come feast. since they were former slaves they had no food of their own. Of course, the king had asked his people to share what they could, but that didn’t stop anyone from looking at the slaves with contempt.

Again, when the new king arrived almost everyone rose. Another cheer erupted.

“Hail, King Arslan the Liberator!”

Looks of contempt or not, he had freed the slaves _and_ Pars and the people were proud of him.

“If you continue like this I’ll have to make a list for all your titles.”

Daryun and Arslan chuckled at Elam’s remark. Arslan let the cheering continue before gesturing for silence.

“People of Pars, you have all been freed, be it from the Lusitanians or your shackles as slaves. Some of you may not agree with my decision to free the slaves, but it is not one I intend to reverse. From this day on, anyone who sets foot in Pars will be free. I ask you to realize that the people you thought slaves are people too. And I ask you to forgive your former masters, whether they were slave keepers or Lusitanian conquerors, and forget that past. The time of war is over. It is time for peace now. Peace and forgiveness.”

Again the crowd cheered. Arslan wasn’t sure if they really were going to listen to him or if they just were too intoxicated by now they couldn’t not cheer. He smiled and rode to the walls.

“Daryun, Elam, you two go eat too and have some fun,” Arslan eyes shone as he rode, “I’m proud of you, and thankful. All of you.”

Daryun wanted to object, but Elam spoke faster. He could see Arslan would like to be alone for a bit.

“Of course, Arslan. We are grateful to you too. You will be a great king.”

“You already are,” said Daryun proudly before he went back.

And when Arslan stood on the walls looking out over the city, seeing the light of flame that this time came not from burning houses but bright bonfires, his heart leapt with joy. They’d done it. The time of civil war had indeed ended, now it was time for peace to begin its reign. Could it get any better?

“It seems like once again I interrupt your pondering. I’d thought you’d have better things to do now you’re king.”

Apparently, it could. Arslan turned around. Etoile was standing behind him. She had her usual scowl on her face, although there was a bit of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Etoile! I thought you were still enjoying the feast.”

“No, I left that hours ago to take a look at the other Lusitanians. Heard your speech, by the way.”

“Really? What did you make of it?”

“Well if you think we are ever going to stop trying to converting you, you’re wrong. But it seems like we’ll have peace, as you wished, Arslan.”

Did her eyes widen a little when she realized she’d used his name? They were silent for a while until Arslan spoke.

“I am still the same Etoile. No need to be afraid I’ll be offended if someone doesn’t use the proper titles.”

The uncertainty disappeared, making place for something else. Was that… relief? But that too changed almost immediately into her usual stubbornness.

“Afraid!? You’re not my king anyway! I am not afraid of you!”

“Oh? Then perhaps you were afraid for me, that I’d lost my way?”

That got him a punch to his shoulder as expected. There was the Etoile he knew. He raised an arm to protect himself.  
“  
You do realize you are hitting royalty, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah? Then act like it! Walking around without a guard, You do realize I could throw you off the walls right now if I wanted to!”

Arslan burst out laughing.

“Yes, you have done it before, I remember very well! The sunset was beautiful”

“Seriously? You got thrown off the city walls into the moat and you remember the sunset!?”

Etoile sighed, giving up on her assault on the Parsian king.

“You’re hopeless. Why do you trust me so much anyway? That you caught me from that long-necked demon or didn’t kill me as your prisoner, I understand now. It’s just not in your nature. But then, at Saint Emmanuel, you start asking me all this stuff like I’m one of your advisors...”

Arslan was silent for a while.

“I don’t know exactly. It just felt like we’d known each other so long, I wanted to at least know your name."

“Knew each other? I took you as my hostage!”

A smile tugged at his lips. Then his smile sagged a bit.

“Etoile, would you perhaps… would you like to stay? In Pars, I mean. Here?”

Her face changed. It turned red, shocked and embarrassed… was that joy? He could only hope so.

Eventually, it settled into the blank stare of someone who doesn’t know what to say.

“I have to return to Lusitania and serve the king. Plus I made the refugees from Saint Emmanuel a promise I'd see them home.”

Arslan sighed. “Of course, well then, I hope you can come to visit sometime, at least.”

“...I hope so too. I will.”

The next morning they said their goodbyes, but their paths would cross again as they had before.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I'll write a follow up about Arslan and Etoile because they are just too great. Thanks for reading!


End file.
